Of Ice Cream Trucks and Jewish Songs
by Liams Kitten
Summary: The ice cream trucks are playing Christmas songs, leaving Dutchy feeling betrayed, especially when Specs won't share any ice cream. Slash, SpecsDutchy


A/N: Alright chickies, here's a little fluffy one-shot that was inspired when I realized the ice cream trucks no longer played Mister Softee music. See what it evolved into?

Disclaimer: I own Newsies. On DVD, anyway. And I don't own the ice cream men. Nor the ice cream trucks. Yeeeah. Also, I don't own any of the songs mentioned (don't think I'd WANT to...)

* * *

Of Ice Cream Trucks and Jewish Songs

"Silent night! Holy night! ALLLLLLL IS CALM!! ALLLLLLL is briiiiight..."

Dutchy sang along loudly as the ice cream truck slinked past. Specs stared at him, shaking his head sadly. Dutchy made a face, returning the favor when the ice cream man flipped him off out a window.

"Specs, why don't the ice cream trucks just play the good old Mr. Softee music?"

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you been paying attention? Each ice cream truck that just passed has been blaring some stupid song." Dutchy winced as "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" roared in the cheesy blinking music generally associate with ice cream trucks. "All these Christmas songs, too! Don't they know it's summer? Christmas isn't for another six months!" he shouted, receiving a dirty look from a pigeon.

"It's also unfair to the Jews," Specs said calmly, flipping through his book.

Dutchy gasped. "By cows, you're right, Specs! Okay, that's it. From this moment onward, I will not buy ice cream from an ice cream truck until I hear one play 'Hava Nagila'." A truck rounded the corner, coming to a stop several feet from the two boys. "Fuck you, Hark the Herald Angel!" he shouted, shaking his fist at the truck. The driver stuck his head out the window and made a rather inappropriate suggestion as to what Dutchy should do with a certain body part, punctuating the statement with his middle finger.

Specs, shaking his head in mock sorrow, went up to the truck. "You'll have to excuse my friend over there. He's just a little bothered by all of this Christmas music coming from the ice cream trucks."

"Look, buddy, you think I care about whatever fucking music is playing so long as people buy my fucking ice cream?" the man spat before continuing, "So, you gonna buy something or waste some more of my frickin time?"

Dutchy glared angrily at Specs as he returned with an ice cream cone. "Traitor," he hissed.

Specs sighed exasperatedly. "I know you want a cone, so just go and buy one."

"Dude no! I was serious about what I said before, and I'm sticking with it!"

"This is going to last for, oh, about ten minutes I'd say."

"Specs!"

"You're right, five."

"Dude! No! I mean it."

Specs shook his head. "Fine, whatever. Can we walk while I eat this?"

Dutchy grabbed Specs' book, shoving it into one of the large pockets of his cargo pants before trotting after his friend.

"Why do you think the trucks stopped playing the Mr. Softee music?" Dutchy asked, waltzing with an imaginary partner alongside Specs.

"Why are you so hung up over this?" asked Specs, carefully licking the ice cream dripping down the side of the cone.

"Humor me."

Specs shrugged. "I think I heard on the news something like the Mr. Softee music several children to the point of insanity. I think one even killed himself over it." He realized Dutchy had stopped waltzing, and turned around to see him standing still looking horrified. "What?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Dude, that's disgusting!"

"What is?"

"I LOVE the Mr. Softee song!"

"That would explain a lot, then."

They continued on in silence, Specs trying to eat his rapidly-melting ice cream, Dutchy deep in thought. Then Dutchy's face lit up with realization.

"Hey!"

"I prove my point." Specs bit into the cone, quickly sucking the ice cream that spilled over the side. Dutchy watched hungrily for a moment, then began carefully, "Specs, can I have some-"

"No."

Dutchy bristled. "Why not!"

"You had your chance to buy your own," Specs said flatly.

"I told you, I'm not buying from an ice cream truck playing Christmas music!"

"Oh, but it's okay for you to eat mine?" Specs rolled his eyes when Dutchy nodded.

"Pwease Specs?" Dutchy asked, making himself look as pathetic as humanly possible.

"I'm not looking."

"Just one tiny little lick?"

"Go awAY."

"An insignificant little drip?"

"Get your own."

"Come on, I'm hot!"

"That's what you get for wearing pants in summer."

"You won't even notice any's missing, I promise!"

Shaking his head, Specs popped the final piece of cone into his mouth and chewed, moaning in exaggerated pleasure. Dutchy growled.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do. Meanie."

Specs sighed. "Dutch boy, I know you would have done the same."

"No I wouldn'ta."

"Yes, you would have. You never share anything."

"Do too!"

"Oh really?" After Dutchy's vigorous nod, Specs said, "Then can I bor-"

"No."

Specs snorted. Their argument was interrupted by a deranged version of 'Jingle Bells' as an ice cream truck stopped to sell to some hyperactive five-year-olds who didn't need the extra sugar. Specs reached into his wallet, walking up to the ice cream truck and paying the man.

Specs came back to Dutchy, holding the vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles out to his blonde friend. "Here you go, I know it's your favorite."

Dutchy glared at it. "I didn't hear "Hava Nagila", did you?"

"Oh, come ON, Dutchy! It's _ice cream_! Who the hell _cares_ what music the truck from which it was bought was playing?"

"I do."

"So now _I _have to eat it?"

"Unless you're gonna throw it out in front of the ice cream man to show him we're Jews and we're on to them."

"Since when are you Jewish?"

"Since right now."

Specs and Dutchy stared each other down a moment. Then Specs sighed, licking the ice cream that had dripped onto his hand.

"Dutchy, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I've been listening to too much Mr. Softee."

Specs rolled his eyes. "You really have."

Dutchy watched Specs eat the ice cream cone with rapt attention. Specs didn't notice at first, but when he looked up to see Dutchy staring at him with his lower lip jutted slightly out, he made a frustrated noise. "What?!"

"I want ice cream!" he whined.

"Well that's too damn bad," Specs snapped. "You're not getting mine."

"Why not?"

"Because I gave you a chance to eat it, but you refused. So now it is mine."

"But you didn't even want it!"

"I do now."

"Plus you already had one!"

"I was unaware there was an 'ice cream limit'."

Dutchy walked beside him in silence for a moment. Then, he said as pathetically as he could possible manage, "Pleese?"

"No!"

"But-"

"No."

"And-"

"Stop it."

"I wo-"

"Nuh uh."

"Ple-"

"Nope."

They were quiet again. Dutchy thought up a different plan of attack, while Specs kept one eye on his friend and the other on his ice cream.

"You have to be the slowest ice cream eater in the history of ice cream. It's melting all over your hands."

"Good. I like it on my hands."

"You do not."

"You're right, I don't." Specs glanced at Dutchy. "Would you happen to have any napkins in those circus tent pants of yours?"

Dutchy glowered. "Dude, don't insult the pants."

"But they _are_ five times larger than you," Specs said, shaking his head. "So, do you?"

"You insult me, then ask for something from me. Frankly, even if I DID have a napkin, I don't think I'd give it to you."

"Well do you have anything _else_ I might wipe my hands with?"

"Have you tried your clothes?" Dutchy asked, rummaging through his pockets for something Specs could use to wipe the stickiness from his hands.

Specs made a face. "Only barbarians use their clothes as napkins."

Dutchy grunted barbarically and pulled a moist towelette from a small pocket, presenting it elegantly to Specs.

He eyed it warily as he opened it, commenting, "Should I even bother asking?"

"Nope."

Specs wiped his hands, finishing the final bit of his ice cream. He threw the towelette in the next garbage bin they passed.

"You're so mean," Dutchy said. "I sacrificed my final moist towelette on you, yet I get absolutely no ice cream."

"Well I'm sorry, but don't be so picky about what truck your ice cream was bought from." Dutchy crossed his arms and stuck his nose up, turning away from Specs. Specs sighed yet again. After a full minute of walking in silence, they approached another ice cream truck.

"Look, that truck is playing 'It's A Small World'. At least that isn't a Christmas song."

"What part of "Hava Nagila" don't you understand?" Dutchy asked, throwing his arms up and staring at the sky.

"It isn't Christmas-"

"The 'Hava'?"

"You really want that ice cream."

"Or the 'Nagila'?"

"Actually neither, since I don't speak Yiddish. Or Hebrew. Whichever one that is."

"Oh." Dutchy grinned sheepishly, then giggled as he looked at Specs' face.

"What is it?" Specs asked suspiciously, watching Dutchy out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, nothing," Dutchy said in an all-too-innocent tone. He glanced at Specs and giggled overly-exaggerated again.

"What?!" Specs snapped, but Dutchy just shook his head. They walked on, and again laughter shook the blonde boy's frame.

"Dutchy..." Specs growled threateningly.

"All right, all right. You..." Dutchy burst into another fit of hysterics.

"DUTCHY!"

"You've got ice cream on your face," he said, wiping imaginary tears of mirth from his eyes.

Specs blinked at him. "THAT'S what you find so funny?"

"There's a sprinkle too."

"So?"

"It's been there for the past ten blocks."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Specs hissed, feeling slight embarrassment.

"I wanted to see if you'd notice," Dutchy said, watching with amusement as Specs rubbed a spot on his face furthest from where the ice cream and offending sprinkle actually were. "You'll never get it at this rate."

"Well where is it?" Specs tried wiping his chin, but Dutchy shook his head.

"You didn't share, so now you must_ suffer_."

"Come on, Dutchy, where is it?" Specs pleaded angrily, scrubbing at the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Specs, you're nowhere near it. Silly."

"Could you wipe it off for me please?"

"And what d'you want me to use to wipe it off?"

"Your clothes?"

"So what, your clothes are too good to use as napkins, but mine work just fine?"

"Yep, pretty much."

Dutchy rolled his eyes. "Well, you asked for it." He leaned in and licked the purple sprinkle from Specs' nose. He stuck his tongue out to show his friend, but the brunette was looking embarrassedly down at his shoes.

"What?" Dutchy asked, swallowing the sprinkle. Specs' answer was cut off by an ice cream man (in a truck playing "We Three Kings") yelling, "Get a room, you fruits!"

"Hey, _just_ because he licked my face does NOT mean we're gay!" he shouted at the truck.

"Uh, Specs, we ARE both gay," Dutchy said rather quietly.

"Oh yeah. Well both of us being gay does not necessarily make us a couple." Specs glanced over at Dutchy, whose red cheeks were a stark contrast to his normally pale complexion. "Is something wrong, Dutch?"

Dutchy nodded, then shook his head, then sighed. "Actually, there's something I been meaning to tell you for...quite a while now." He sat down on the sidewalk, patting the spot next to him.

Specs plopped down, leaning against a fire hydrant. "Okay, tell me."

Dutchy moved his foot to allow a kid on a bicycle to pass him. He sighed deeply, shaking himself out to mask his suddenly shaky hands. "Well, it's actually something I've been wanting to tell you since third grade. Or, actually, I didn't really _want_ to tell you in third grade, but it's been true since then." Dutchy ran his fingers through his hair.

"Well what is it?"

"See, I was really planning on telling you once we got into Junior High, but that's when we got really close and I didn't want you to hate me for telling you-"

"So then tell me now."

"-then I vowed to tell you once we graduated but we were never alone together over that summer, so every summer since then I've tried to stop being a chicken ass and just tell you."

"So stop stalling and say it."

"And last year I came really really close, but then you told me you were gay and I lost my nerve-"

"Dutchy! Just spit it out!" Specs said, grabbing his friend's hands and staring him in the eyes.

"Specs I like you," he said in a rush. He buried his face in his hands. "I'm so so SO sorry, and I can understand that you're disgusted and never ever wanna see me-"

"Dutchy, breathe." Dutchy was shaking, both with nerves over what he'd just done and the lack of that secret that had always existed between himself and Specs. He drew in a shaky breath, and Specs nodded. "Good. Now look at me."

"Nuh uh." Dutchy buried his face further in his hands, purely embarrassed by what he'd just done.

"Come on, Dutchy," he said, grabbing one of his arms and trying to pull it away from his face. Dutchy fought back, but in the end he gave way to Specs' persistent tugging. He refused to look at Specs though. Specs sighed.

"Fine, if you won't look, at least listen. I know you liked me when we started High School. We were so close, how could I not have known? Last summer, when you were about to tell me your 'secret', I thought it would help calm your nerves to know I was gay."

Dutchy looked up into Specs' smiling eyes. "So, you're not mad at me?"

"No! How could I be? You're my best friend."

Dutchy turned away. "Yeah, I guess it's just gonna stay that way..."

Specs grabbed Dutchy's arm. "No! You moron! Haven't you been listening? I FUCKING LIKE YOU TOO!"

Dutchy's eyes widened. "Really?" he whispered, suddenly shy.

"Really really."

Dutchy lost his voice as Specs leaned towards him, wrapping his hands behind Dutchy's neck and closing the distance between them.

Just as their lips were about to touch, an ice cream truck came bumbling around the corner. Dutchy's head snapped up.

"OH MY GOD! It's playing 'Hava Nagila'!!"

Specs sighed. "Go on, Dutchy, buy your fu-" The rest of his sentence was cut off as Dutchy kissed him quickly.

"Wait for me," he said, scrambling to his feet and chasing down the ice cream truck.

Specs stood, putting one foot up on the fire hydrant. He raised his eyebrows as his friend returned, ice cream-less and looking rather betrayed.

"Dutch?"

"There was a _woman_ in that truck."

"So...?"

"Did you ever hear of an ice cream _woman_?"

"Dutchy!" Specs threw his arms up exasperatedly.

"No! It's always 'Ooo, the ice cream _man_ is coming!'"

"Do you have any idea how incredibly sexist you're behaving right now?"

"It's unnatural!"

Specs put his arms around Dutchy's hips. "I suppose you think we're perfectly natural," he said softly, making Dutchy blush. He shrugged.

"Now I feel bad."

"Don't worry. I bet she doesn't even remember."

"Not _that_."

"Well then what?"

"I really want ice cream."

Specs lightly slapped the side of Dutchy's head. Dutchy made a face, then leaned in and caught Specs' lips in his own.

Specs, surprised at first, relaxed into the kiss. He allowed Dutchy's tongue to explore each corner of his mouth, drinking in the feeling. Dutchy broke the kiss, looking pleased with himself. Specs raised his eyebrows, and Dutchy giggled.

"You taste like ice cream," he said, watching carefully for Specs' reaction. The brunette surprised him by laughing, and they linked arms, walking off into the sunset.

Or at least, they headed that way until Specs realized they lived in the opposite direction. Then, Dutchy leaped into his arms, and Specs carried him home. Actually, he only made it as far as the next corner before he realized Dutchy was too heavy, and dropped him. But, then again, not all happy endings need to be romantic ones.

* * *

A/N: Well, didja like it? Huh, didja?!?! Well, review!! This was my first Specs/Dutchy fic, I'm rather proud of it ::beams:: so feel free to pop my happy bubble and insult it to death. And sorry if I spelt the name of the Jewish song wrong, I did my best. Now I must do something...

::walks in dressed in black:: We gather here today, to mourn the loss-  
  
Mush!Muse: Psst!  
  
LK: What d'you want, Mush?  
  
M!Muse: Me an' the fellas wanna help out wit da memorial.  
  
LK: ::sigh:: Fine, so long as you BEHAVE yourselves.  
  
AllMuses: ::nod::  
  
LK: So, as I was saying. Dearly beloved-  
  
Dutchy!Muse: We gather here to say our goodbyes.  
  
LK: DUTCHY!  
  
Skittas!Muse: ::sings:: Here she LIES! No one knew her worth.  
  
LK: STOP IT I'm trying to-  
  
Blink!Muse: ::sings:: The late, great daughter of mother Earth, on this night when we celebrate the birth.  
  
Mush!Muse: ::happy sigh::  
  
LK: GUYS!!! Dude, you're ruining this-  
  
Dutchy!Muse: In that little town of Bethlehem we raise our glass, you BET your-  
  
LK: STOP IT!  
  
Spot!Muse: ASS!!!!!!!!!  
  
LK: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!!!! NO more singing! I'm trying to be SERIOUS here! ::fumes a moment:: Anyway, as I was saying-  
  
Spot!Muse: ::mutters:: Ass.  
  
LK: ::glares:: DUDES. I won't ever let you help me with anything ever again, GOT IT?!?!?!  
  
Muses: ::meekly nod::  
  
LK: So. Today is a sad day for Broadway and Disney alike, for the fantastic-  
  
Spot!Muse: Shitty.  
  
LK: -musical Aida performed its last performance-  
  
Spot!Msue: Thank God.  
  
LK: -tonight. It is no longer on Broadway. And- SPOT SHUT UP NOBODY WANTS TO HEAR IT- I'd like for us all to take a moment of silence in loving memory of Aida.  
  
Race!Muse: You act like someone died.  
  
Mush!Muse: SOMEONE DID! Aida did, along with every other character in the play!  
  
Specs!Muse: Ever hear of a revival?  
  
Mush!Muse: But Adam Pascal won't be able to play the lead!  
  
Race!Muse: Aww, little Mushee has a crush on Adam Pascal??? How cute!!!!  
  
Jack!Muse: Would it hurt if I stabbed myself?  
  
Blink!Muse: Wat?? Mush?!?! Wat about me?  
  
Mush!Muse: ::blushes::  
  
Jack!Muse: Since, you know, I can't DIE.  
  
LK: -- Apparently SOME PEOPLE don't know the meaning of SILENCE.  
  
Musies: ::cower::  
  
Spot!Muse: I tought we wasn't PEOPLE.  
  
LK: SPOT I'LL skin you.  
  
So, remember the greatness that was Aida. And pleese review, it would make me ever so happy.  
  
Much love,

-Me-  
  
Dutchy!Muse: ::sings:: AIIIIda, AIIIIIda, AIIIIIIda, AIIIIIIIda. OOOOOOOOOO

Specs!Muse: Dutchy, do us all a fava an SHUT DA HELL UP.

Dutchy!Muse:...aida.


End file.
